


The Redemption of Booster Gold

by DoctorV



Series: The Mullet-verse [1]
Category: Booster Gold (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Justice League, Justice League International (Comic), Justice League of America (Comics)
Genre: AU, Angst, Gen, Handwavey Magic BS, Pre-Slash, Prequel, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 12:19:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/225102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorV/pseuds/DoctorV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prequel to the Mullet-verse fanfic series, filling in the blanks between where it broke with canon and where the main body of the series began. OR: In which there is BS magic, a dubious amount of stolen dialogue, zombies, barely-justified out of character moments, and magically created offspring. OR: Exploring the details and day-to-day of the progression of obsession and mourning, as well as the origins of Junior and Zombie Max.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Absolution

**Prologue: Absolution**  
 _Absolution in a liturgical church refers to the pronouncement of God's forgiveness of sins._  
\-----

"You can **stop looking**."

 _"You gonna **help** me, or you gonna **wallow** in **nostalgia**?"_

 _"Look, Booster--it isn't the same as it was in the **old days**. Things have **changed**. **I've** changed."_

 _"No doubt, in a few minutes some pinhead in a costume more ludicrous than **ours** is gonna walk through that door and **sneer** at us--vowing **revenge** for the **parking ticket** we gave him six years ago!"_

 _"The merchandise will be **silent!** "_

 _"When'd you get it back? How long? How many days?"_

"Blue Beetle's **dead**."

 _"As if **anyone** would care if he killed **us!** "_

 _"For cryin' out **loud** , Beetle--you used to trust me with your **life!** "_

 _"He was going to **track** the **signal** \--and **confront** whoever was doing it. Nobody else believed him. I wanted to go **with** him...was too hurt to even get out of **bed**."_

 _"I've lost **too many** people I **love** , too many **friends!** My **sister...Ice...Sue**...now **Skeets**...Like **hell** I'm gonna stay here and watch it happen to **you** too."_   


_"Waynetech is tied into this somehow."_

"You **son of a bitch!** Ted went to you at the **start**! He went to **you** and you **knew** what he was getting into and you **refused to tell him!** "

"Booster--"

"I **didn't** \--"

 _" **Booster!** For **God's sake** , man...what the hell are you **doing?!** "_

 _"They did **me** like they did **everyone**! They **destroyed** my life! But now I can **stop** them before they **start**!"_

 _"I'm not overreacting to anything! I'm just sick of living life as the butt of a bad **joke**!"_

" **YOU GOT HIM KILLED!** "

"Michael, **stop--!** "

"That's **enough**. **Blame** will be **laid** later."

"...Who're you **kidding?** No, it **won't**... He'd have to **admit** he was **wrong** first."

 _"Get a **grip** , Booster. You're acting like some jilted **lover**."_

 _"We were **best buds** once. What'd I do to make you turn against me?"_

 _"Okay, okay--so we can't put up much of a **fight**. And we're generally **useless**."_

 _"You gonna **help** me, or you gonna **wallow** in **nostalgia**?"_

\---------------

There was...an _ache_. A tight, hollow ache in his chest, and for brief blissfully ignorant seconds his mind refused to explain the feeling to his heart.

Then the words washed over him and tangled up in the dozens of words clamoring in his memory for attention. Only the unnaturally sharp-focused image of the object in Batman's hand kept the past, present, and future from becoming indistinguishable.

Beetle's goggles were... _smashed_. He was going to be pissed when he saw--

 _No._

 _"Blue Beetle's **dead**."_   


It wasn't...no. Ted wasn't--He _couldn't_. How many times had Booster sat at his bedside while Ted healed from a brush with death? But he never...he never....

 _"Blue Beetle's **dead**."_

How the hell did Batman know, huh? A pair of broken goggles wasn't a dead body!

But...Ted did it, didn't he? He figured it out. All alone, he had tracked down Batman's rogue spy satellite and...

 _Batman's_ satellite. _All alone_ , even after he went to Batman for help. Batman, who _knew_ and didn't _help_ , didn't even _warn_ him!

Batman got Ted killed.

The understanding was so _sharp_ , so clear, and the rage bubbling to the surface only made it more so.

Booster had a temper. He knew it, and it had gotten him into trouble on more than one occasion. But when properly focused, _oh_ the things it could accomplish.

Hot anger danced with something wobbly like hysteria, making his skin prickle. And all at once, it was both like an out of body experience and like being so grounded in his body there was nothing else. Everything focused and narrowed to simple facts.

Batman was responsible for Ted's death.

Batman had to die.

Everything went in slow motion for a moment, like the universe had decided to let him _savor_ that moment, that moment right before Ted was avenged and Batman got what-for. Maybe _that_ would finally stop him being such a gloomy _dick_.

But then the moment was over and Superman was there suddenly, _so_ suddenly, blocking the shot and stopping Batman's death. Stopping what needed to be done.

... _No._

Just like that, it was over. The only thing he had left, revenge, was out of reach. And it, he, and Ted...were dismissed.

Like he didn't matter. Like _they_ didn't matter. Like what had gotten Ted killed in the first place.

So easily.

Thoughtlessly.

 _NO._

How _dare_ they?

He couldn't stay there, listening to them just go about their business like nothing had happened. Like the man responsible for Ted's death had done nothing _wrong_.

Booster's mind was a whirling slideshow of thoughts and memories.

 _"You took a road that changed **everyone's** life for the **better**. And whatever your past sins...that **more** than makes **up** for them."_

 _"When'd you get it back? How long? How many days?"_

 _"I'm from the **future** , remember--?! This isn't **my time**... I've worked damn hard trying to **adjust** to your asinine world...and, **believe** me, it hasn't been **easy!** "_

 _"Get a **grip** , Booster. You're acting like some jilted **lover**."_

 _"Soon as I stepped off that plane, I knew where I needed to really be. So here I am."_

Diana was there, on the edge of awareness, talking to him. Offering to help. Too little, too late.

Shaking his head, Booster went to a teleportation tube. ...The coordinates for Ted's house were still in the buffer. He had _been there_. Asked for help and been turned down.

Again.

Where was Wonder Woman _then_?!

Booster activated the tube and squeezed his eyes shut. He'd witnessed a messy teleporter accident as a child and never been able to shake the uneasiness he felt at having his molecules broken down and then reassembled....

And then he was reassembled before he could really think about it.

Looking around, Booster marveled at the damage. He hadn't realized.... Ted had _told_ him about the fire, and he'd been conscious for the...lightning bolt? ...Laser?

From above.

The satellite...?

One more thing to blame on Batman.

Walking dazedly through the debris, Booster leaned against a wall, scorched but still sturdy, and let himself slide to the floor. His body was still bruised and battered, intermittently reminding him of how sore it was. His mind was hyper and buzzing and he felt a little like he was drunk and sugar-high at the same time.

He felt.... He _felt_.

Too much.

No.

And he wanted...he wanted _Ted_. Smiling, teasing, yelling, _anything_. Just there. Where Booster could see him and know he was there.

 _No._

 _"You gonna **help** me, or you gonna **wallow** in **nostalgia**?"_

 _"I've lost **too many** people I **love** , too many **friends!** My **sister...Ice...Sue**...now **Skeets**...Like **hell** I'm gonna stay here and watch it happen to **you** too."_

 _"Take care of yourself, Booster...it's what you do **best**."_

 _"I wanted to go **with** him...was too hurt to even get out of **bed**."_

 _"I'm sorry, Ted," Booster whispered thickly, dropping his face to his hands as his eyes prickled._

 _"If you're looking for **forgiveness** , Booster, there's only **one man** who can **give** it...and you're **looking** at him."_   


"I'm so sorry...."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various quotes taken from: _Countdown to Infinite Crisis_ , _OMAC Project_ #1-2, _Formerly Known As The Justice League_ , _Justice League America Quarterly_ #10, and _Justice League America_ #37.


	2. Chapter One: Benediction

**Chapter One: Benediction**  
 _Benediction is a short invocation for divine help, blessing and guidance, usually after a church worship service._  
\-----

 _"You're an **idiot** , do you **know** that?"_

 _" **Unh** -uh. I'm too **stupid** to figure it out."_

 _Beetle sighed. "I really hate to **admit** this--"_

 _" **What?** "_

 _"--but there's a **part** of me -- a very **small** part, but I can't deny its existence--" He shook his head, stopping before they reached the Bug's exit hatch. "No, no -- I **won't** say it! I won't **say** it!"_

 _"You **missed** me -- **didn't** you?" Booster accused, leaning closer to his old friend and grinning as he poked Beetle's chest with a finger._

 _Beetle stared down at the finger, still on his chest, for a quiet moment. Then he looked up at Booster with an expression that gave the man pause. "Yeah," he said softly. "I **did** miss you."_

 _If he had been expecting anything, it wasn't that. The quiet admission and sincere expression on Beetle's face. Booster wasn't sure how to react, and then Beetle confused him further by reaching up to wrap a hand around Booster's, left forgotten in front of the bug-themed hero's chest._

 _Using the hand to tug Booster closer, Beetle hesitantly curled his other hand around the back of the man's neck and pulled him closer. Then Beetle kissed him._

 _It was...he had hoped, dreamed maybe, wanted...but he never seriously thought it would ever happen. And now it was **Beetle** , Ted, his best friend in any time period, who had taken the initiative._

 _Booster whimpered into Beetle's mouth and clutched at the man's arm, stepping closer. " **...Ay yii yii yii yiiii** ," he breathed._

 _" **Down** , Desi--" Beetle chuckled, releasing Booster's still-captured hand to slide his own up Booster's arm. Wrapping his arms around Booster's neck, Beetle pressed himself against the man and smiled. "If you're looking for **forgiveness** , Booster, there's only **one man** who can **give** it...and you're **looking** at him."_

 _It took a moment for his words to register, and when they did they confused Booster. He was about to ask what he meant by it, but he had his arms full of his best friend and seconds later his mouth full of his best friend's tongue. And it was...._

 _It was a dream come true._

 _Time passed, unnoticed, and suddenly Beetle broke the kiss to look him in the eye. "It's **not** your **fault** ," he said seriously. "I **never** had a **better** friend than you."_

 _Booster stared at him, bewildered. "Wha--?"_

 _Leaning up, Beetle whispered in his ear, "I need your help on this. You gonna **help** me, or you gonna **wallow** in **nostalgia**?"_

 _"Ted?"_

 _"Blue Beetle's **dead**."_

 _" **NO!** "_

Booster gasped, disoriented, and stared around himself in confusion as he caught his breath.

Then everything came crashing back to him and he squeezed his eyes shut as his throat clogged and his chest tightened. Destroyed goggles, destroyed house, destroyed life.

Dropping his face to his hands as he brought his knees to his chest, Booster whispered a curse from his own time. It was comforting and familiar, invoking memories of his childhood, hearing forbidden words spoken by adults and older kids, feeling naughty and exhilarated tasting them on his tongue for the first time, as only children can.

He was in Ted's basement. He had found it last night, surprisingly untouched by the destruction above it, and decided to explore it further when a cold breeze blew through the burnt-out shell of Ted's home. Then he had found the cot and decided to sleep, amid both protests from his still-healing body and praises that he was finally allowing it to rest.

And he had dreamed.

Sighing, Booster ran a hand through his hair and flopped back down on the cot. His feet stuck over the edge so he curled his legs up a little. Staring up at the ceiling, he thought back to the dream.

It was a disgusting mix of memory and fantasy.

He had thought he was _over_ his crush on Ted. Or at least...able to put it out of his mind.

When he had first come to this time, he had quickly learned that a surprising amount of importance was placed on one's sexual preference. And hadn't _that_ been a revelation.

Booster's sexual preference was that he preferred sex. In the future, no one would have blinked twice at such an attitude, but in the _past_ it could make or break your image. And Booster Gold was all about image.

So he had dated women exclusively. It wasn't a hardship, women were nice. There was still the occasional discreet, clandestine encounter in the bathroom of some hole-in-the-wall bar or club with blacked-out windows and no real name. He had gone in disguise, and he had been careful (he'd had all his vaccinations, but it was better to be on the safe side). Men were nice too.

But except for those once in a blue moon instances, Booster stuck with women and was just fine with it.

Then he had met Blue Beetle.

They worked well together. Beetle was funny, smart, creative, and could pull off a pastel bodysuit. (Except for the times when he let his weight get away from him, but even then the man was good with a girdle.)

Before he knew it, Booster found himself thinking inappropriate thoughts about the man. If they hadn't become such fast friends, Booster thought he probably would have tried to make a move on Beetle. But as it was, he just couldn't bear to risk their friendship like that. It was already enough of a roller-coaster, with highs and lows and pitfalls and estrangements, he didn't want to add sexual tension to the mix.

Or maybe that was part of the trouble in the first place.

Whatever the source of he and Ted's problems, they had stayed friends for years. And though Booster jokingly flirted with him sometimes (and he swore Ted flirted back), he put aside any thoughts of anything more than a platonic relationship with Ted.

...And now he was gone.

Booster gritted his teeth and pounded the cot with his fist, squeezing his eyes shut again when they prickled suspiciously. All that wasted time, all those _years_ , and he had never even...and now he never would.

And that son of a bitch _Batman_ was to blame! If he had said something, _anything_ , warned Ted, tried to get him to wait....

Anything.

 _"A fella gets treated like this, he can **snap** , y'know--! Go completely **crazy** and become a super- **villain**!"_

Sitting up, Booster swung his legs over the side of the cot and got to his feet. He needed to think, plan, something.

There was a radio on Ted's workbench and Booster remembered the number for an oldies station in the area, so he flipped it on. The end of "Hey Jude" filled the quiet basement and Booster started pacing, alternating between a strong desire to shoot Batman while Superman wasn't around, trying not to poke at the emotional wound of losing his best friend, and wondering where to go from here.

"That was 'Hey Jude' by The Beatles, chickadees!" announced the DJ on the radio, and Booster winced. "Now for a little local news. The Art Institute -- that big building with all the pretty pictures? -- has a new exhibit, here in Chicago for this month _only_. And get this, there's a piece in the collection rumored to hold the secrets of _resurrection_. Hey, maybe they could try it on the Sox, huh? Whatta ya think, Chi-chi?"

Booster abruptly stopped pacing as what sounded like a kazoo buzzed from the radio along with the DJ's laughter. "It _can't_ be that easy," he murmured, even as a slow smirk settled on his face.

 _"Y'know, I'm a firm believer that people don't ever **really** change. They **are** what they **are** and I--"_

 __"The **authorities**. They caught **up** with me. Dragged me away like a **common criminal**..."_ _

_"Boy, if I ever **was** gonna turn super-villain, **this** is the kinda gear I'd need!"_

 _"You gonna **help** me, or you gonna **wallow** in **nostalgia**?"_

"Bwa. Ha. _Ha._ " Booster muttered.

\---------------

Overall, museums were basically the same no matter what century you were in. Sure there were architectural differences, and of course differences in the level of technology available for security, but they were all big buildings dedicated to showing off lots of important objects to lots of human traffic.

And they all had weaknesses.

Which was exactly what Booster was scouting for that afternoon. He had thrown on a hat and some of Ted's clothes that were, for whatever reason, being stored in the basement (wondering as he did so what had possessed his friend to willingly pay money for some of them), and flown to the Art Institute. Apparently it was Tuesday, not that Booster knew of what _week_ , because admission was free.

It was while he was pretending to look at a portrait from the museum's regular collection, in actuality trying to decide if the ventilation system was a viable option, that he felt eyes on him. Booster casually glanced over his shoulder and found that it was a child, rather than security.

The kid was young -- toddler maybe? The age where they were old enough to talk but not to have anything worth saying. And he was _staring_ at Booster, with disturbing, zombie-like focus. As Booster watched in disbelief, the boy reached up and inserted a finger into his nose, absently wiggling it around. Like picking his nose was an _afterthought_. Then, leaving a slimy trail down his upper lip, the child slid his finger into his mouth.

Booster made a face at him. Kids. Were. _Disgusting._

He hoped _he_ never had any that went through a snot-eating phase. Not that he planned to have children any time soon, but maybe some day.

Shaking his head, Booster moved on, leaving the boy to his snack.

\---------------

The next night, Booster returned. _After_ hours.

He had decided to wear his costume, just because he was so used to it and his abilities while wearing it, but had found some dark jeans and a hooded sweatshirt to wear over it, hiding the distinctive (and shiny) gold. Even with the hoodie, his face was still fairly recognizable, so he had gotten some hair dye while he was out the previous day.

Ted's bedroom had been relatively untouched by the damage to the rest of the house, as was the bathroom attached to it. So Booster had showered and applied the dye in Ted's bathroom, feeling a little odd as he did so. And now he had a full head of dull black hair that felt a little weird to the touch.

It would do for now, but maybe he should do something about the lower half of his face. His goggles covered his eyes...maybe a goatee or something.

 _"Maybe I **should** become a crazed **super-villain**...just to **show** them. **That's** right! I'll take over the **world!** "_

 _"Boy, if I ever **was** gonna turn super-villain, **this** is the kinda gear I'd need!"_

 _"A fella gets treated like this, he can **snap** , y'know--! Go completely **crazy** and become a super- **villain**!"_

 _" **Mock** the nefarious **Booster Gold** , will you? **Toy** with the **merciless master of the mystic magoombos?** For **daring** to show such disrespect...I hereby consign the Super Buddies-- **to the deepest...darkest...PITS OF HELL!** "_

The whole "dark" theme suited his new supervillain persona. And maybe if he did get a goatee, and he got caught, he would be mistaken for an evil duplicate of Booster Gold from an alternate universe. He had been around long enough to know how these things worked.

Maybe an eyepatch?

Maybe later.

Maybe he could call himself "Black Gold." It sounded... _familiar_ for some reason.

He would work on his new look as he went. For now, he had some crime to commit.

 _"Look out there, man. For **every light** in **New York** , there's someone whose life you've saved...either as **Booster Gold** or as a **Justice Leaguer**. You took a road that changed **everyone's** life for the **better**. And whatever your past sins...that **more** than makes **up** for them."_

 _"Y'know, I'm a firm believer that people don't ever **really** change. They **are** what they **are** and I--"_

 __"The **authorities**. They caught **up** with me. Dragged me away like a **common criminal**..."_ _

_"If you're looking for **forgiveness** , Booster, there's only **one man** who can **give** it...and you're **looking** at him."_

And a best friend to get back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various quotes taken from: _Countdown to Infinite Crisis_ , _OMAC Project_ #2, _Formerly Known As The Justice League_ , _I Can't Believe It's Not The Justice League_ , and _Justice League America Quarterly_ #10.


	3. Chapter Two: Consecration

**Chapter Two: Consecration**  
 _Consecration is an act by which a thing is separated from a common and profane to a sacred use through prayers, rites, and ceremonies._  
\-----

The "collection," as it turned out, was a collection in the sense that the contents of a magpie's _nest_ was a collection. There was no real theme, nothing connecting the various pieces, except that they were all very old and no one was quite sure what to make of them. In fact the name of the exhibit was "Mysteries of the Ancient World," which sounded to Booster like _most_ of the exhibit names he had heard throughout his life.

Silently flying through the dark museum, Booster found the piece mentioned on the radio easily. His goggles allowed him to see in the dark, so he didn't even need to bring a light, which could have given him away, in order to read the little paper plaque with the word "resurrection" featured prominently. They also let him see the near-invisible motion-sensors, which he carefully avoided.

The piece was a large book, old and heavy-looking, that was identified as _The Book of the Dead_. Booster was pretty sure he'd heard that name in a movie somewhere, and wondered if maybe whoever had discovered the book had also seen that movie. It was supposedly the translated name from the cover, but Booster had his doubts.

Doubts or not, Booster had what he'd come for. Carefully stuffing the book in the bag slung across his back, he hurried from the museum.

It was as he was flying away, the night relatively quiet, that the surge of adrenaline flowing through his body ebbed away, to be replaced by a burst of exhilaration. No alarms heralded his exit, no guards shone flashlights in the air in search of him, no police sirens wailed their way to the burgled museum. He had gotten away with it!

 _"Recidivism. **n**. A tendency to lapse into a **previous pattern** of behavior, especially a tendency to return to **criminal behavior**."_

"Shut up, Ralph," Booster muttered at the memory.

"Booster?"

Stopping abruptly, Booster's heart pounded as icy fear trickled down his spine. Or maybe that was sweat.

"Is that _you_ , Booster?"

He knew that voice. Slowly turning, Booster's eyes widened at the two glowing green figures hovering in the air. He hadn't seen Guy since....

 _"I-I can't...I'm sorry...."_

...Sue's funeral. Damn.

And Bea...when had he last seen Bea?

"What's up?" Booster asked.

"You heard, right?" Guy asked, pointing at him. "About Blue Beetle."

Booster winced, ducking his head. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "He...I heard."

Staring at him intently, Bea finally asked, "Booster, are you--What happened to your hair?"

There was a pause, then Booster slowly shoved the hood of his sweatshirt back and ran a hand through his dyed hair. "No good?"

Bea _and_ Guy were looking at him funny then. Guy started to say something, but Booster missed it when a dark flutter of movement below caught his eye.

A _bat_.

Narrowing his eyes, Booster had his arm out and aiming seemingly without conscious thought. He was just about to shoot the damn thing in midair when he suddenly realized it was actually a _bird_. Stupid bird, pretending to be a bat.

"Booster?"

At the sound of his name, Booster returned his attention to his old teammates and found that they were looking a little concerned now. He quickly ran through a pre-game mental exercise and focused on the here and now. Then he managed to muster up the smile he used when he was promoting food and beverages.

 _"Come on, **Booster!** That was our ninth take! Try to act like you **enjoy** the stuff!"_

"What is it?"

"Did you hear a word we _said_?" Bea asked impatiently.

"I...there was a...a bat," Booster explained, pointing at the spot he had last seen the dark shape. "But it was a bird."

They just stared at him.

Maybe he shouldn't have bothered mentioning it.

"Aw jeez, he's flipped," Guy muttered to Bea.

"I can _hear_ you, Guy," Booster said flatly.

Guy grimaced. "Look, Fire's got a lead on who offed Beetle. We were--"

"You know?" Booster demanded.

"I've been going over Kord Industries financial records--" Bea started.

"So was Ted," Booster interrupted coldly. " _Batman_ knew, but he didn't bother saying anything when Ted went to him for help. Are you saying _you_ knew, too?"

Bea's eyes widened in surprise. "I've been--I didn't--"

"And you didn't _say_ anything? You didn't even think to maybe _contact_ Ted?"

"Oh and where were _you_?" Bea snapped back, pointing at him accusingly.

Booster recoiled.

 _"Take care of yourself, Booster...it's what you do **best**."_

 _"Okay, okay--so we can't put up much of a **fight**. And we're generally **useless**."_

 _"For cryin' out **loud** , Beetle--you used to trust me with your **life!** "_

 _"You gonna **help** me, or you gonna **wallow** in **nostalgia**?"_

 _"I wanted to go **with** him...was too hurt to even get out of **bed**."_

Narrowing his eyes, Booster spat, "I was in the _hospital_ , you...you Brazilian whore!"

Bea jerked in surprise and she opened her mouth to speak, but Booster wasn't finished.

"You think if I'd had _any_ choice--If I'd been able to I wouldn't have--He wouldn't--He just _ran off_! I would've gone _with him_ if he'd waited! Tried...." He choked a little and squeezed his eyes shut.

 _"I've lost **too many** people I **love** , too many **friends!** My **sister...Ice...Sue**...now **Skeets**...Like **hell** I'm gonna stay here and watch it happen to **you** too."_

"Booster, I--"

"Go to hell," Booster snapped, narrowing his eyes at them for a second before abruptly yanking the hood over his head again and shooting off into the night.

That...had gone badly.

A tug at the strap of the bag containing the so-called "Book of the Dead" reassured him that it was still there, though.

 _" **See?** I **may** be vain, shallow, and egotistical...but I **can** get the job done!"_

And with it, maybe a second chance.

\---------------

The next several days were spent doing slow, painstaking translation.

While some of the contents of the book were in English and a few other languages, they were few and far between and the majority of the book was in Latin. After charming a librarian at the local library into letting him use his "sick friend, Ted's" library card to get some books for him to read in his "convalescence," Booster checked out several books, including a Latin/English dictionary.

During this period, Booster learned many things. One was that translating was hard work. _Very_ hard work. Especially if you were an amateur, and you kept getting tripped up by words that resembled Esperanto words but had entirely different meanings.

Another was that the real name of the book was _The Big Book of Resurrection Rituals_. Booster figured whoever translated the title as "Book of the Dead" probably just hadn't wanted to admit it. Still, it was better than "The Idiot's Guide to Resurrection" or "How to Raise the Dead for Dummies."

He also learned that many of the spells and rituals in the book were partially or fully dependent on props. Or "items of power," as the book referred to them. Booster wondered if they were like magic batteries or something, but decided to wait on using any of those. Stealing a book from a mix-and-match museum exhibit was one thing, stealing artifacts and jewels like...Cybele's Stone, for instance, was another thing entirely.

It occurred to Booster, at one point, that to be truly dramatic and heartbroken, he probably should've found an old shirt of Ted's to bury his nose in and breathe deeply while thinking melancholy thoughts about missed opportunities and times gone by. It was a good idea, in theory, though on the depressing side, but also very impractical.

Most everything in the house, including the clothes in Ted's mostly unscathed bedroom, smelled burned. Most everything in the basement smelled like...well, basement. And while Ted _had_ occasionally smelled burned, it was generally an indicator of a bad day, and he had never smelled like basement.

Besides, he thought he probably had the dramatic and heartbroken part down pretty good just by living in Ted's basement that smelled of basement and embarking on a quest to bring his friend back from the dead.

 _"Get a **grip** , Booster. You're acting like some jilted **lover**."_

...It had to count for _something_ , anyway.

\---------------

The first spell Booster tried was short, simple, and didn't require anything but "words of power" and some amount of belief. Booster figured he had that covered, he would believe anything the book told him to if there was a chance it would get Ted back.

He concentrated, he moved his hands like the book's illustrations instructed, and he spoke the words of power.

Then he waited.

At first, nothing happened. Then slowly a pinpoint of light grew from the floor, increasing in size and stretching upward like a vine made of neon blue smoke. Branches stretched from the rising light, then curled in on themselves and gently broke away from each other, spinning and whirling until they formed shapes.

 _Beetles._

Beetles of various shades of smokey, glowing neon blue danced in the air, not enough to be a swarm but still quite a few. They flew around the room, wings silently buzzing, and Booster watched their progress with fascinated confusion.

Then they drifted back together, movements looking almost choreographed as they flowed around each other through the air. With one final twirl, each glowing blue beetle seemed to implode into a puff of neon smoke and slowly fade from sight.

Upon further reading of the spell's description, Booster learned it was just an illusion. An ancient equivalent of a fireworks show.

That night he dreamed of chasing blue fireflies that were actually beetles with a laughing Ted, whose grin outshone the glow.

\---------------

Smoke billowed, not graceful and blue like the first spell Booster tried, but huge and gray. As it slowly dissipated, Booster's eyes widened as he caught sight of a dark shape inside the gray, the silhouette looking... _human_ and curled in on itself.

Booster almost laughed. Second try and already he had--

Oh no.

When the smoke cleared enough that more was visible than just a dark silhouette, it was obvious the figure huddled on the floor was too small to be a full grown adult male. As it cleared further, the figure appeared to be a boy.

And he was _alive_.

Booster's mouth went dry, then he jerked in surprise when the boy suddenly, slowly moved. Eyes squeezed shut, the boy tentatively lifted his head and sniffed the air, wrinkling his nose at the smell of smoke surrounding him.

He was pale, and skinny, and had a messy tangle of brown hair on his head. Booster might almost have thought the boy was a young Ted, but...while some features were familiar, some weren't. The hair, for instance, though Booster thought it might have been a shade off from Ted's auburn brown. And that was definitely Ted's slightly pointed nose above what looked a little like Ted's mouth.

But the shape of the eyes wasn't quite Ted-ish, and the jaw was...not Ted's. Booster knew Ted's jaw, even had fond memories and a few fond fantasies of it. Whoever's jaw the boy had, it wasn't Ted's.

Whoever....

"Oh crap," said Booster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various quotes taken from: _I Can't Believe It's Not The Justice League_ , _Justice League America Quarterly_ #10, _Identity Crisis_ #1, _Booster Gold_ #2, _Countdown to Infinite Crisis_ , _Formerly Known As The Justice League_ , and _OMAC Project_ #2.  
>  Also: Hey guess what! This thing is full to the brim with in-jokes, but I'm only going to explain [this one](http://heykidzcomix.livejournal.com/21917.html#cutid1).


	4. Chapter Three: Delegation

**Chapter Three: Delegation**  
 _Delegation is the commission to another of jurisdiction._  
\-----

It all started, Booster suspected, with either a mistranslation or misunderstanding of the word "rejuvenation."

At first glance, the spell was one of the easier ones. Aside from time, energy, and a few things that were easily obtained, all it really called for was something from the body of the person. A sample of DNA, Booster assumed.

That was the second point of trouble.

Or maybe it all started with the papercut.

 _The Big Book of Resurrection Rituals_ was old, and the pages were soft to the touch. The last thing Booster had expected was to get a papercut while flipping through them. But he had, and a deep one at that.

There were bandages in the bathroom attached to Ted's bedroom, Booster knew, and he had been just about to go get them when a ritual caught his eye. It wasn't that he was fluent yet, but he was starting to recognize words and the ones scattered throughout the page looked promising.

Papercut all but forgotten, Booster diligently translated enough of the instructions to get a sort of list of ingredients. A DNA sample was among them.

Booster figured Ted's bathroom would be a good place to look for DNA, and his papercut was still bleeding sluggishly so he could get the bandages while he was at it. Two bats with one stone, as it were.

So he had looked around Ted's bathroom, setting the bandages out on the counter so he would remember them, and finally hit upon the idea of checking the bathtub drain for hair. As he jabbed at the drain with the fingers of one hand, he suddenly winced when he scraped his papercut and it retaliated with a fresh burst of pain. It didn't occur to him yet that that had increased the flow of blood from the cut and that the hair clog he was digging out was getting thinly coated with the slowly congealing liquid.

Once he had the wad of hair, Booster grabbed the box of bandages and took them both back down to the basement. About an hour or two later, he had the spell more or less translated and all the ingredients it called for collected.

Aside from the Latin/English dictionary, Booster had gotten a few other useful books at the library. Among them was _The Idiot's Guide To Spell-Casting_ , which included a sort of cheat sheet pronunciation guide. When he thought he had a clear idea of how the "words of power" were supposed to be spoken, he followed the instructions and combined the ingredients.

It wasn't until he was about halfway through that Booster remembered that _he_ had recently used the shower he got the DNA sample from, and with that memory came the realization that his now-bandaged papercut had been bleeding on the DNA sample. But there was a tense, anticipatory feeling in the air, like the calm before a storm, and he wasn't sure what would happen if he stopped.

And by then he was almost finished anyway.

As smoke roiled across the floor, billowing up from where the ingredients had been, Booster just finished the spell and hoped for the best. When he saw the dark, human-shaped silhouette through the slowly dissipating smoke, he had thought, briefly and with a bright swelling of hope, that he had succeeded.

Then the smoke cleared.

"Um," Booster said, then repeated, "Oh crap."

\---------------

At the sound of Booster's voice, the pale, skinny boy lifted his head again and seemed to be trying to locate him without opening his eyes. Actually, he didn't seem aware that opening his eyes was an option.

Booster wasn't sure what to make of that, so he started frantically flipping through books and scribbling on some paper as he tried to work out where he had gone wrong.

"Oh crap," Booster said again, muttering under his breath as his eyes flickered over the pages and his notes.

Meanwhile, the boy was stiffly unwrapping his arms from his legs. Once he was somewhat less curled in on himself, he started to tentatively open his eyes. A tiny pained whine escaped his throat as the light stung his eyes and he squeezed them shut again.

Booster looked up sharply at the sound, said "Um," then went back to translating. He felt a little strangled, and a thin thread of adrenaline was shooting through him as he worried the boy might be dangerous and try to eat his face. Or something. He was, admittedly, not thinking very clearly.

Shivering, both because he was naked in a cold basement and because his body was new at the whole movement thing, the boy slowly opened his eyes again. He was somewhat more successful this time, wincing and blinking rapidly as tears trickled from his unused eyes. His vision was blurry, there were spots everywhere, and it was far too bright. Also, he smelled something that was making confusing images of flickering orange and yellow and panic and helplessness and...something comforting going away...all of it dancing around him. It was only because his eyes were open now that he realized the images weren't really happening, they were just in his head. And all the feelings attached to them were...distant. Like they had _never_ happened to him.

Looking up worriedly when the boy made a confused sound, Booster wondered what the hell he had done and what the hell he was going to do. "Oh crap."

The familiar sound had returned and the boy lifted his head a little to try to find the source. Most of the sounds near him seemed to be coming from the tall, almost-familiar man with black hair. He wasn't sure _why_ the man was almost familiar, but some more of the images that didn't happen to him played in his head of a distantly comforting/familiar/loved woman crying, though the images were...hazy.

There was another woman like that in the images that didn't happen to him. She wore glasses and the images...felt _different_. Like they didn't happen to him differently than the images of the crying woman didn't happen to him. It was very confusing.

And both women called him-but-not-him by different names, and neither name felt like his except in a very, _very_ distant way.

The almost-familiar man looked at him again and said one of the things he said before. Maybe that was his name?

He was...Um. Or...maybe he was Ohcrap? Maybe he was both?

The boy pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and staggered closer to the almost-familiar man. He was...higher than he should be? Looking down, the boy could see that his feet were on the ground like he thought they were, but his head was too high. He was _taller_ than he thought he should be.

And now that he was stretched out, his stomach was starting to hurt. He was...hungry? Yes, that's what the pain in his tummy meant. Hunger.

Then it growled.

The boy looked down at the sound, startled. The pain was starting to twist a little and he didn't know what to do and he was cold and nothing made sense and the images in his head were all mixed up and he didn't know what his name was and he could still smell the thing that made him think of scary roaring heat and his eyes were stinging again even though they were used to the light now and his tummy kept making sounds and--and--and--

Not looking up from his books, Booster absently grabbed the can of cold corn he'd been eating earlier and shoved it in the direction of the gurgling sounds.

After a little bit, they stopped.

\---------------

It was therapy.

That was the only thing Booster could think of for why anyone would want a physical manifestation of their inner child. It must have been some form of ancient therapy, so people could... _commune_ with said inner child.

And that was what he had created with the ritual.

Though for an inner child, especially Ted's, the boy was surprisingly well-behaved. And _older_ than Booster would have expected an inner child to be.

And...also not entirely _Ted's_ inner child, if he was perfectly honest. Booster could see enough of his own features in the boy that he couldn't pretend some of his DNA _hadn't_ gotten into the mix.

Not that that explained why the boy was so quiet. If he really _was_ a combination of Booster's and Ted's inner child...well, Booster knew of more than one person who would probably be terrified at the idea.

Actually, the idea terrified _Booster_ just a bit, simply because he couldn't help comparing the magical mixing of DNA to create a child with the _technological_ mixing of DNA to create a child that he was familiar with from his original time.

In the future, it was perfectly normal for a couple to go have a child grown in a laboratory. Either because they were of the same sex, or because they were infertile, or because they couldn't carry a fetus without health concerns, or any number of reasons. There it was just another way to be born, and there was nothing unusual about it.

And Booster had just created a child that was, if he was honest with himself, the biological offspring of himself and Ted.

"Um," said Booster.

His biological offspring glanced up from the corn he was eating with an attentive look on his face.

"Oh crap."

At that, the boy cocked his head expectantly. When Booster just stared at him, he raised his eyebrows in what was probably supposed to be encouragement.

"Um."

The eyebrows lowered and twisted a little, making the boy look a little frustrated.

" _Hi_ ," Booster finally croaked.

Eyebrows untwisting, the boy glanced down at the can of corn cradled in his hands, then bit his lip and glanced to the side. After a moment he looked up at Booster with wide blue eyes and, in a voice weak with disuse, whispered, "Hi."

Booster was almost positive that what he was feeling wasn't the urge to cry.

\---------------

After that, things progressed quicker. Awkwardly, but quicker.

Booster soon realized that the reason the boy kept looking at him expectantly when he said "Oh crap" was because he thought it might be his _name_. When he tried to correct the boy, his expression had just became more expectant as he asked who he _was_.

It was a good question.

But not one that Booster wanted to think about.

The book wasn't clear on how long the physical manifestation was supposed to last, and didn't have _anything_ on how it would react with more than one DNA sample. Presumably because it was assumed no one would be stupid enough to make that mistake.

Booster fully expected the boy to disappear in a puff of smoke at any time.

The thought made him queasy.

So he didn't think about it. Instead, he found some clothes in the basement that almost fit the boy and explained things as best he could. And when the boy continued to respond to "Oh crap," Booster started calling him "Junior" just so he would stop.

Then he felt a little _more_ queasy because now the boy had a name.

Names made things _real_.

And now the boy _reeked_ of real.

Booster was almost doing okay until he started telling the boy about Ted. He told Junior about the hair clog, the DNA, the ritual, and that Ted was currently dead and Booster was trying to find a way to bring him back.

Staring up at him with a slight furrow to his brow that made Booster's chest twinge a little because he recognized it from watching Ted try to work something out in his head, Junior finally asked, "So...is...he my dad? Too?" His voice had an oddly slurred and stilted quality that Booster would only later realize was because the boy was remembering two different speech patterns and wasn't sure how to reconcile them into his own speech.

The question was...a little like a verbal punch in the gut and Booster couldn't seem to speak. Junior recognized him as his father, he _was_ the boy's father, and Ted was too. It was.... Booster nodded in response. Then when Junior beamed up at him, he turned and went upstairs.

When he got to Ted's bathroom, Booster locked the door and slid down until he was sitting on the cold linoleum.

Booster wrapped his arms around himself and stared at the opposite wall until his vision blurred and only closing his eyes and dropping his forehead to his knees would clear it.

\---------------

When Booster felt up to facing Junior again, he found that the boy had gotten into Ted's tools and found something that looked like a robot. He was happily occupied tinkering with the unfinished invention and Booster didn't see any reason to bother him.

As it turned out, Junior had a natural aptitude for tinkering. Booster attributed it to Ted's DNA. When Junior took to wearing a pair of lime green shoes he dug out of a box somewhere, Booster blamed that on Ted's DNA also.

He was also very good at fending for himself, so Booster didn't really have to do much to take care of him. After he found the nonperishable foodstuffs, Junior pretty much left Booster alone. If he was hungry he found a can of corn or a box of raisins. If he was bored he tinkered. If he was tired he went upstairs and curled up in Ted's bed (though Booster didn't find that out until later).

Booster occasionally felt a pang of guilt that he wasn't doing more for the boy, but he wasn't even sure if Junior would still exist in a week and he felt uncomfortable about getting close. He also felt a pang of guilt whenever he thought about the fact that he had created life that might _stop_ living at any time just because of how he had created it.

So he tried not to think about it.

Instead, he busied himself with once again finding a way to get Ted back. Junior was occasionally curious about his activities, but Booster mostly ignored him or encouraged him to go back to tinkering.

Sometimes Booster had to go out and get materials, some of which happened to inconveniently belong, technically, to other people. For those outings he wore a new black goatee. He thought he looked sufficiently villainous, but when he asked Junior what he thought the boy just stared at him for a while, scratched his ear, and said "Um."

Well, what did _he_ know?

\---------------

Booster was just about to settle on "Black Gold" as his supervillain moniker when Junior inadvertently convinced him otherwise.

In the course of the boy's tinkering, Junior had found a television set and gotten it working again. Booster was just fine with that, because it helped to distract him. And some of the shows that most distracted the boy were old reruns. The older the better, it seemed.

It was as Booster was one day passing the room Junior had the TV set up in that he heard it.

"--oil, that is. Black gold. Texas tea--"

Looking up in surprise, Booster pushed the door open a little and peeked in. Junior was sitting in front of the television, attention focused on the images of a scruffy group of people loaded up in a vehicle with a rocking chair on top.

"--hills, that is. Swimmin' pools, movie stars--"

Junior turned to look at him when the door creaked a little. They stared at each other for a moment, then Booster's eyes flickered to the screen and then back to the boy.

"What...uh, what are you watching?" he asked quietly.

" _Beverly Hillbillies_ ," Junior replied. "It's the story of a poor mountaineer named Jed. And his fam'ly."

"Oh," Booster said. Now he remembered the show. And now the theme song was playing on a loop in his head, with "Black Gold" somehow louder. "Crap."

Junior looked up at him expectantly.

"Stop that!" Booster snapped.

Junior rolled his eyes and shrugged, turning back to face the screen. Turning around, Booster left him to it.

As it turned out, it was a marathon. And by an incredible coincidence, the theme song was playing almost every time Booster passed the room. After that, every time he even _thought_ "Black Gold," the theme song started playing in his head.

He decided he could come up with a supervillain name later.

\---------------

"I'm going out," Booster said, making sure his goatee was secure.

"Again?"

"Again," Booster agreed, checking the directions he had written down before stuffing the paper in a pocket. A sense of obligation made him add, "Um...I probably won't be back till...tomorrow, maybe."

"'Kay," Junior said, not emerging from the pile of boxes the top half of his body had disappeared in.

Booster frowned down at his feet for a moment, feeling uncertain. Then Junior suddenly said, "It's eleven-thirty pee-em, do you know where your kids are?"

"You're right there," Booster replied, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yup."

There was a long moment of silence, then Booster slowly smiled. "Yeah. ...I'll be back later, Junior."

"Have fun."

A few minutes after Booster left, Junior finally slid backward out of the pile of boxes. Sitting back on the floor, he grinned and triumphantly held up a pair of yellow goggles.

"Bwa-ha-ha," he chuckled.


	5. Chapter Four: Education

**Chapter Four: Education**  
 _Education includes all those experiences by which intelligence is developed, knowledge acquired, and character formed._  
\-----

 _"...Okay, **Booster** \--go **ahead**."_

 _"I **told** you, **Beetle** \--" Booster protested, arm shaking a little as he tried and failed to use his blaster. "I **can't**."_

 _" **Sure** you can. You've done this a **million times** before. Just press the little button and blast us **outta** here."_

 _"It's no **use!** It's like someone's flipped over a **switch** in my brain and--"_

 _"You have a **brain--?** "_

 _"Hardy-har-har. You're so smart-- **you** try."_

 _" **I** can't do it **either!** " Beetle snapped, looking pained to admit it._

 _" **Hmmmm.** So... **now** what?" Booster asked, looking at Beetle thoughtfully._

 _" **I** dunno. Wanna see who can do the most **push-ups?** "_

 _"Actually, I've got a better idea...." Booster said slowly._

 _"Oh? What's that?"_

 _"This," Booster said with sudden determination, grabbing Beetle's shoulders and lowering his head to kiss the man firmly on the lips. He prepared to throw up his forcefield if Beetle decided to punch him for it, but he was hoping that with all the...cavalier-ness, Beetle wouldn't be so inclined to hurt him._

 _Beetle never threw a punch, or hurt him. Instead, he kissed back. Eagerly._

 _As Beetle's hands settled firmly on Booster's ass, pulling him in closer, Booster wrapped his arms around the man and moaned softly. Perfect. It was perfect. Why hadn't he done this **years** ago?_

 _"Aren't you a **married man?** " Beetle asked breathlessly when their lips parted for a moment._

 _"Soon I'll be **single** again," Booster muttered in response, hands roaming over Beetle's back. He **had** him. Warm and willing and alive--_

 _Alive?_

 _"You're getting **divorced** \--?" Beetle continued, tilting his head back as Booster nibbled at his jaw._

 _"Well, no. But--Wait, haven't we already had this conversation?"_

 _"The merchandise will be **silent!** " Ted snapped, hooking a hand behind his head and bringing their lips together once more._

 _"That sounds familiar **too** ," Booster groaned against Ted's mouth. _

_"Get a **grip** , Booster. You're acting like some jilted **lover**."_

 _"Well, that's what it **feels** like! Wait--"_

 _"You can **stop looking**."_

 _"No," Booster whispered, holding Ted tighter as if he might vanish any minute. But he felt...he felt **weak**. Sore, tired, **hurt** , and Ted wasn't in his arms anymore. "I've lost **too many** people I **love** , too many **friends!** My **sister...Ice...Sue**...now **Skeets**...Like **hell** I'm gonna stay here and watch it happen to **you** too."_

 _"Booster, you're in no condition to--" Ted started gently._

 _"No!" Booster shouted, grabbing his arm and holding on desperately. "Like **hell** I'm gonna stay here and watch it happen to **you** , too."_

 _"Booster, whatever happens, it's **not** your fault."_

 _"No! Ted, you selfish bastard, don't you dare!" Beyond his reach, he was...could barely see him, and dread churned in his stomach as tendrils of awareness of what was coming snaked through his mind. "Don't leave me again!"_

 _"You can **stop looking**."_

 _"Ted!"_

 _"I **never** had a **better** friend--"_

"NO!"

Sudden light as he opened his eyes made him gasp and wince, chest heaving as adrenaline coursed through him. Ted! Ted was...he had to--

There was a sound at his side and he jerked away as he turned to look. Surprised blue eyes stared at him from behind yellow goggles and strands of uncombed brown hair. Awareness suddenly came rushing back and a groan escaped him.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Booster grimaced. His cheeks were a little damp; he wiped them off and then wiped his hand against the cot. "What?" he mumbled groggily, laying back down.

"You were makin' funny noises," Junior whispered. He appeared to be trying to hide, and only his head above his down-turned nose was visible.

Booster groaned and rolled onto his side facing away from the boy. There was no telling which _part_ of the dream had prompted the "funny noises" Junior was talking about, and frankly he didn't want to ask.

"What did I do to deserve this?" he grumbled under his breath. Then Junior poked his shoulder and he winced. "Oh right. _That._ " Sighing, he rolled back over and frowned at the boy. "Don't wake people up when they're making funny noises."

"Why?"

"...It's just...not a good idea," Booster fumbled for words. There was no way in hell he was having The Talk with him. _No way._

"Oh. ...'Kay." Junior's eyes darted to the side and he tugged nervously at a loose thread on the cot. "Um...I didn't wake you 'cause of...funny noises."

That was...odd. Booster sat up and peered down at him curiously. This was the first time the genetic construct had interrupted him for anything. Not while he was sleeping, not while he was working. "Oh?"

Not meeting his eyes, Junior stared at the loose thread he was tugging on. That was probably a good thing. When Booster came home to find Junior merrily sorting through a tangle of wires while wearing the yellow goggles, it had been a surprising and painful reminder of Ted. Booster hadn't said anything, and Junior hadn't noticed, so the boy continued to wear them.

Booster just tried not to look at him when he did.

"Um, what's a...a caaas-caaade faaail-uuure?"

It took Booster a moment to realize what Junior was asking. "Cascade failure? Uh...it's something to do with physics or...electricity, I think. Bad thing. Why do you--Where'd you hear that word?"

Junior shrugged. "TV," he said quietly. "There's a lady in a... shiny swimsuit thing. Saving people. ...I don't like news shows, but they made crime scene investigation go away to show it." He looked up in confusion. "Does that mean it's important?"

Booster was on his feet and halfway up the stairs before he thought to answer. "Maybe."

"Oh," Junior said thoughtfully, following close behind.

\---------------

It was, as Booster had suspected, Wonder Woman.

Booster crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at the TV. The word "MUTE" was in a corner of the screen, so he had only the caption to provide information. Apparently a nuclear power plant in Arizona had gotten dangerously close to wiping out the nearby population.

The caption was replaced with a side-scrolling list of other Justice Leaguers dealing with disasters. Booster's frown deepened.

 _"Booster,"_ J'onn's mental voice suddenly echoed through his head. _"Are you avai--"_

 _"Fuck off,"_ Booster thought firmly.

 _"What--"_

 _" **I** know a **song** that gets on **everybody's nerves**! Everybody's nerves! **Everybody's nerves!** "_ It was childish, but after much experimenting Booster and Beetle had once upon a time found that singing that song very loudly in their heads was a good way to annoy J'onn. Singing it out loud worked, too, but it was funny to see J'onn get progressively more irritated when no one else knew what was going on.

Now, he just didn't want to talk to anyone with the League. Especially not after that dream.

"What's that?" Junior asked quietly.

That was when Booster realized he hadn't just been singing in his mind, he'd also started singing under his breath.

"It's...a song. Martians hate it."

Junior nodded. " _Oh_."

"Listen...why don't you watch a movie or something," Booster suggested, warily eying the bright figure of Wonder Woman still on the TV.

Junior stared up at him for a moment, and Booster thought maybe he was going to ask something, but finally the boy shrugged. "'Kay."

Not taking his eyes off the screen, Booster absently patted Junior's shoulder as the boy passed on the way out the door.

"What the hell is going on out there?" he murmured thoughtfully.

\---------------

Whatever was going on, it was clear that it was dominating the attention of a large number of heroes.

Which left them unable to deal with simple petty thefts.

"Junior, I'm going out again," Booster told the boy as the opening credits to one of Ted's movies started on the screen.

"Oh," Junior replied, looking disappointed. He stared down at the floor and fiddled with the remote for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Um...whe-where ya goin'?"

"On a crime spree while the heroes are distracted," Booster said, kneeling beside the boy. "The book described some resurrection talismans and I already found where they're being held. I just needed an opportunity like this to _get_ them." He grinned. "I might even be able to get them _all_ before anyone notices."

Junior grinned back tentatively. "Cool."

Setting a hand on Junior's shoulder, Booster smiled reassuringly. "I'll get Ted back soon."

As Junior nodded in response, Booster stood and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. Flashing the boy another smile, Booster hurried off.

\---------------

Knowing some of the idiots he had stopped while he was a hero, Booster hadn't expected mass theft to be _too_ difficult, but it was still a little surprising how _easy_ it was. Apparently the old "practice makes perfect" saying applied to crime, too.

The illustrations on the pages about the Thigh of Xipe Totec were fairly gruesome, but it was the closest of the items on his "shopping list." It was on display in a museum that apparently hoped to encourage patronage by describing its vastly bloody and brutal history in detail. Booster decided to leave it as a last resort.

He was out of the museum before a routine security check revealed the Thigh was missing.

\---------------

Next was an unnamed piece of flax cloth with the faded image of a circle containing a pentagon and a golden apple. The book had gone on at length about someone named Eris, but Booster hadn't been sure if they were the weaver or who it was woven for.

Booster snatched it without reading the museum's paper plaque for it. If he had bothered to read it, he might had been more careful handling it, instead of just stuffing it in his bag along with the Thigh of Xipe Totec.

The plaque spoke of a goddess's chaotic sense of humor and what kind of "gifts" she bestowed.

\---------------

Booster flew as fast as his flight ring would allow, only briefly touching down in museums and private collections. Items were taken carefully but quickly and then he was off in search of the next.

A necklace believed to belong to the goddess Isis, something that looked a little like a garbage disposal carved from rock, a sprig of mistletoe carved on a rune stone, an egg-shaped chunk of amber called Cybele's Stone, and more. All of these were placed in the bag slung across Booster's back.

As he was leaving the wealthy home of a private collector, Booster thought he caught sight of Superman and dove out of sight in a nearby forest. Luckily, the so-called "man of steel" appeared distracted and didn't notice him.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Booster leaned his head back against the trunk of a tree he was hovering by. That was probably as good a sign as any that it was time for him to head back.

Tree branches caught at his clothes and bag and Booster tugged free with some difficulty. In the process, his bag tipped over slightly and Cybele's Stone wobbled free, plunging toward the rocky ground below.

Booster bit out a curse and dove after it, just barely catching it with the tips of his fingers as it was about to hit a rock that would most likely shatter it. The Stone teetered on the edge for a moment before falling back into the palms of his hands.

Laying on the hard, cold, uncomfortable forest floor with a stolen rock clutched in his hands, Booster decided it was _definitely_ time to go back.

\---------------

Hours later, Booster was squinting at the increasingly harder to read text of _The Big Book of Resurrection Rituals_. The items he had stolen earlier were sitting on and around the desk and he was doing his best to translate the pages related to them.

The words were blurring in his vision and he was getting a headache.

Sighing, Booster buried his face in his hands and closed his eyes. He was tired, that had to be it. That was the only explanation he was willing to accept for the headache and why he was having so much trouble reading the smaller print. He flat out _refused_ to accept the possibility that he might need reading glasses.

Just _thinking_ about it made him feel old.

With a grimace, Booster leaned back in his chair and dropped his hands, staring up at the ceiling. ...What the hell had Ted been doing down here that had caused that odd burn mark? Huh, weird.

Booster _definitely_ didn't need glasses. Not for reading, not for anything. He wasn't even middle-aged, for crying out loud! ...Barely, anyway. Sort of. And middle-aged wasn't even that old! Hell, it was only middle-age by _this_ century's standards.

Blowing out a deep breath, Booster turned his gaze back to the desk. It was no use, his vision was blurring too badly to make out the words, much less translate them.

There was the pitter-patter of small feet on the stairs and Booster looked up. Junior paused abruptly, staring at him, then continued down the stairs when Booster raised an eyebrow at him.

The boy stopped in front of the desk, hands coming up to loosely grip the edge of it. Ted's spare goggles were hanging around his neck. "Um," he said.

Resting an elbow on the desk, Booster dropped his chin into his hand and waited expectantly. "Yes?"

"Um...what's Cecil B. DeMille?"

"He's a who," Booster said slowly, closing his eyes as he tried to remember. "Uh...I think he was a director. Worked in movies, anyway."

"Oh." Junior frowned in confusion, staring down at the desk as he rubbed a finger over a spot on its surface. "How many people did he kill?"

" _What?_ " Booster asked, startled.

Junior took a deep breath and appeared to be concentrating as he asked, "How many men did Cecil B. DeMille kill?"

"I...none? I don't know." Sitting up, Booster ran a hand through his hair. "Where'd you hear that?"

"Mel Brooks's _Blazing Saddles_."

Booster stared at him for a moment before lacing his fingers together and leaning forward to rest his chin on them. "Why don't you tell me _exactly_ what you heard."

"Okay. Um...the guy in jail said 'I must have killed more men than Cecil B. DeMille.'"

"Huh," Booster muttered, trying to remember the scene. The movie was a favorite of Ted's and the man had eagerly taken it upon himself to introduce Booster to the greatness that was Mel Brooks films. "I...have no idea."

"Oh." Junior looked disappointed.

As the boy turned to leave, Booster sighed and stood. "Why don't I...watch it with you," he suggested. "Maybe I'll remember."

Then all of a sudden he was staring at Ted's bright grin set in a much younger face and...it didn't hurt as much. With a bounce in his step, Junior clamored up the stairs, occasionally pausing to make sure Booster was following.

As he came up beside the boy a sudden thought struck him. "Stealing is wrong, by the way," Booster said.

Junior stared up at him for a moment, then blinked and nodded. "Oh, okay."

"Good," Booster said. "I'm glad we had this talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various quotes taken from: _Countdown to Infinite Crisis_ , _OMAC Project_ #2, _Formerly Known As The Justice League_ , _I Can't Believe It's Not The Justice League_ , and Mel Brooks's _Blazing Saddles_.  
>  The Cecil B. DeMille reference, for anyone who's like me and didn't have a clue, is explained by Wikipedia: _Cecil B. DeMille's trademark of having scores of soldiers die during battle is also mentioned in the 1974 film Blazing Saddles when local alcoholic Jim, aka "The Waco Kid", describes his reputation as a gunslinger._


	6. Chapter Five: Flagellation

**Chapter Five: Flagellation**  
 _Flagellation is an extreme form of mortification of the flesh, putting the flesh to death._  
\-----

The basement was paisley for exactly fourteen seconds.

Booster wasn't sure why paisley, or even why it happened in the first place, but it seemed a lot like magic had suddenly gone completely wonky for a bit. Luckily, it wore off after the fourteen seconds. And Junior had been there to confirm that Booster wasn't just hallucinating.

They agreed to never speak of it again.

\---------------

Afterward, Junior went upstairs to look through rubble. Booster wasn't sure what he was doing, but the boy kept... _finding_ things. The goggles, the pair of lime green shoes that he'd formed an odd attachment to, a paperclip chain that was several feet long.

The other day, Booster had found Junior staring at an old Justice League photo with cracked glass. He looked like he was trying to figure something out, and occasionally reached out to press his fingers over the images of Booster and Beetle.

Booster wasn't sure what to make of that. It seemed vaguely familiar, but he couldn't remember where he'd seen that particular mannerism before.

Whatever the boy was up to, he wasn't in the basement and he wasn't in the way. Which meant there was one less thing for Booster to worry about.

Lately, Booster had been worrying about a lot. About whatever strange goings on were going on in the world, that he was only catching glimpses of. About Junior, who Booster was becoming fond of despite the uncertainty surrounding the boy's lifespan. About whether he was doing _anything_ right.

When he first started, everything had seemed so clear. The cloning technology in this century was imperfect and uncertain, and anyway he didn't have any way to download Ted's brain into a clone. So that was out. But magic...magic was capable of things that the current technology available to him wasn't. The radio commercial that led him to _The Big Book of Resurrection Rituals_ had seemed like a bright, shining ray of hope.

But now, after so many failed attempts, he was starting to wonder if maybe the whole thing was pointless.

Sighing, Booster put those thoughts aside and got to work.

\---------------

Several things combined in the next few minutes to throw off the intended outcome of the spell.

Magic, worldwide, fluctuated wildly. Booster was not, by nature, a magic-user, and so he was not in tune enough with such magical energies that he would, or even could, notice.

One of the ingredients that, as the book _specifically_ stated, was supposed to be fresh had been difficult to find at all. So Booster had had to make due with...not so fresh.

And finally, one of the powdered components of the spell drifted up to curl around Booster's nose when he added it. This resulted in Booster sneezing at an important point. Specifically, the point when he was pronouncing a name.

Apparently accuracy was important.

\---------------

There wasn't much smoke this time. In fact, Booster wasn't even sure it _was_ smoke.

The combined ingredients started bulging up and out, sending some of the powdered ingredients up in a tiny cloud. A smell like burning garbage rose from the sickeningly lurching blob of grey and brown. The mess grew quickly, rising up from the floor with choked squelching sounds, shuddering and seizing until it was a human size and shape.

The slimy figure stood motionless for a moment, then there was a sucking squish and all the wetness was abruptly pulled in. A sound like a death rattle escaped it, just before the mass became recognizable as a person.

 _"Look. **Guys.** Your **best** days in tights are **behind** you. You need to stop looking **backward**. And start looking toward the **future**."_

"Max?" Booster whispered in frozen horror.

At the sound of his voice, Max twitched and groaned softly. That was when Booster finally realized what it was that his brain had been screaming at him to notice.

Max's head was facing almost completely backward.

The unnatural angle of his neck suggested that it was broken. Badly. And Max's skin had a sickly gray pallor.

Booster opened his mouth to say "Oh crap," but no sound came out. Then Max twitched again and his head tilted so his dead white eyes were staring directly at Booster.

He lurched forward.

Booster screamed.

He would later deny that it was high-pitched or girly, but at the moment he wasn't paying attention to that.

A _zombie_. He had created a zombie. And Max was dead. When had Max died? Booster had seen him just before Ted--

What the _hell_? Was there some sort of vast conspiracy to kill all his old friends? Who was next? Beatriz? _Dmitri?_

Booster's thoughts were cut short when Max lurched again and reduced them to a single terrified mantra of "Oh crap it's a zombie! Oh crap it's a zombie!" Darting away from the rotting corpse, Booster briefly wondered why the hell he hadn't thought to put on his suit, which had a forcefield, and blasters. Things that could protect his juicy, delicious brains better than crappy hair dye!

Max groaned again.

Booster screamed again.

Max lurched again.

Booster...stayed where he was to stare at the slow, shuffling progress of his former business associate.

It was slow. _Very_ slow. Max was barely moving at all, in fact. The fingers of one flaking gray hand twitched like a snail having a seizure.

It was a little sad, actually.

"Crap," Booster sighed, covering his face with a hand. Max groaned in response and Booster lifted his gaze to glare at him. "Oh shut up."

\---------------

As Booster tried to find a way to send Max back to...wherever he came from, he ignored the shambling reanimated corpse. Until Max finally got close enough to touch him.

At the touch of a rotting hand on his back, Booster screamed once more (and would deny with his dying breath that it was girly) and leapt up from his seat at the desk. Shuddering and frantically brushing moist skin flakes from himself, he cursed and berated Max. Then he looked back and saw that Max was still partially bent over from stiffly trying to line his mouth up with Booster's head.

Well, that answered the question of whether he was the kind of zombie that ate the flesh of the living.

And also helped to reinforce the fact that while Max was _incredibly_ slow, he was also persistent. If Booster intended to stay in any one place for an extended period of time, such as reading or sleeping, Max would eventually catch up.

Eventually.

Booster stared at Max as he slowly straightened, trying to decide what to do about him. The book didn't have anything useful to say about how to undo the spell, as usual. He considered fire, since that seemed to be a pretty standard way of getting rid of zombies, but...well, it was _Max_. Whatever Max was or had been, he was one of Booster's oldest acquaintances, friends even. Nevermind that Max was dead, rotting, and intent on eating Booster's flesh while he still had use for it. He was still _Max_.

 _"You gonna **help** me, or you gonna **wallow** in **nostalgia**?"_

"Dammit," Booster sighed.

Zombie Max would not be destroyed.

\---------------

Eventually Booster noticed a closet, partially hidden by a stack of boxes and a long metal pole with a claw on one end. A quick check inside revealed nothing very important in it besides some old coats and a few other clothes, a box marked "SUPERBUDDIES," and something that looked like a moldy pet rock. At least, Booster _hoped_ there was a rock under all that mold.

Knowing Ted, there was really no telling.

The trouble was getting Max into it.

Booster was still wary of getting too close to the zombie, and really didn't like the idea of _touching_ the moist rot. So he stood in front of the open closet and waited.

And waited.

And _waited_.

When Max was about halfway to him, Booster rushed over to the desk, grabbed some of his notes, and ran back to the closet. Leaning against the doorway, he started going over his plans for his next attempt, occasionally glancing up to check Max's progress.

Booster _really_ didn't want a repeat of _this_ disaster. Or the one that created Junior, for that matter. _One_ child who might not survive to his first birthday was bad enough, two was just irresponsible.

Looking up again, Booster noted that Max was close enough that he could see a small spider hanging from the zombie's ear like some kind of macabre earring. That was close enough, he decided.

With all the speed and skill of someone whose livelihood had for most of his life depended on being nimble, Booster slipped around Zombie Max and shoved him the rest of the way into the closet with his shoulder. Slamming the door behind the corpse, Booster took a deep breath...

...and gagged.

"Augh!" he exclaimed, pinching his nose as his eyes watered.

It took him a few moments to find the source of the smell. Apparently when he shoved Max, some of the rotting grey skin had sluiced off and stuck to his shirt. Stripping out of it gladly, Booster opened the closet to toss the shirt in with Max. How he hadn't noticed the putrid miasma of stench surrounding the undead man before, Booster wasn't sure. Probably he had just managed to stay far enough away from the invisible reach of the stink to avoid it.

Now enough of it had soaked through his shirt and onto his skin that Booster _couldn't_ avoid it.

Grabbing a different shirt, Booster went upstairs to shower.

\---------------

Junior didn't seem phased by the smell, except to ask curiously what it was. Booster told him it was rotting human skin just to see what he would do.

What Junior did was get an expression on his face like he was filing that away in his head, then nodded and said "'Kay." Booster shook his head and continued on his way to the bathroom.

He wondered if Ted had been a weird kid. He thought it was pretty likely.

When all he could smell on himself was soap and his own skin, Booster finally got out of the shower and dressed. It didn't occur to him until he was already halfway down the basement stairs that he hadn't warned Junior about Zombie Max. Since the kid got into everything eventually, Booster decided to do so sooner rather than later.

Then he realized that he didn't need to, because Junior had already _found_ Zombie Max. One hand on the door, the boy watched with curious interest as the zombie attempted to shuffle around to face him in the cramped closet.

Before he realized what he was doing, Booster had shouted a warning and was running to snatch Junior back from the closet and slam the door closed. Heart pounding, Booster dropped to one knee, cupping the boy's face with both hands as he checked him for damage he knew, intellectually, wasn't there. "Are you okay?" he blurted.

Junior stared at him in confusion, unsure what to make of his strange behavior. "He's a lot slower than the zombies on TV," he said.

Letting out a breathless chuckle, Booster dropped his hands to Junior's shoulders and nodded. "Yes, yes he is," he agreed. "I still don't want you messing with him."

Junior tilted his head to one side, brow furrowing, and asked, "Who is he?"

Booster opened his mouth to answer, then closed it and silently glanced at the closet door. Coming to a decision, he squeezed Junior's shoulders and stood up. "Go upstairs, I'll be up in a few minutes," he said.

Grinning, Junior chirped "'Kay!" and darted up the stairs as Booster looked on. Then turning his attention back to the closet, Booster opened the door.

Zombie Max still hadn't turned completely around, and had somehow gotten an arm tangled in a hanging pair of pants. Booster held his breath as he sidled past him to nudge the mold rock off the SUPERBUDDIES box with one foot, then backed out pulling the box with him.

Closing the door behind him, Booster leaned back against it to slide to the ground and open the box. Inside were some tapes, a photo album, and various knick-knacks from their time with the SuperBuddies group and a few other groups.

"Wallowing in nostalgia, huh Ted?" Booster murmured with an amused, affectionate smile.

\---------------

Setting the box down beside Junior, Booster fished out the tape he was looking for and put it in the VCR. Junior handed the remote over to him and he pressed a few buttons before sliding the box aside and sitting next to the boy. Reaching into the box again, Booster pulled out the photo album and set it on his lap.

"SuperBuddies! Captain Atom. The fallout free--"

"This is the last group Ted and I were in together," Booster told Junior, eyes fixed on the cheesy promotional video that Max had been so optimistic about. "That guy in the basement is the one who put it together. But we knew him before that."

"Got a super problem call: 1-800-SUPERBUDDIES! Ask for Ron."

As he opened the album, Booster glanced up to find Junior gazing at him with something like awe. It made a glowing feeling of warmth spread through his chest.

Booster turned his attention back to the album and moved it so Junior could see it better. "See, there's Max."

"Who's the short metal guy with him?" Junior asked, pointing.

"That's L-Ron," Booster replied, grinning. "He was--Actually, it's a funny story."

Leaning close, Junior listened intently as Booster waxed nostalgic on the various adventures he and Ted had taken part in. It was nice to have someone so eager to hear about it, and Booster thought maybe talking about the past made the present hurt a little less.

Junior thought it was almost like one of those father/son bonding moments he had seen on TV.

He'd always liked those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Various quotes taken from: _Countdown to Infinite Crisis_ and _Formerly Known As The Justice League_.


	7. Epilogue: Glorification

**Epilogue: Glorification**  
 _Glorification is the completion, the consummation, the perfection, the full realization of salvation._  
\-----

Booster didn't understand Junior's fascination with Zombie Max. Maybe it was the novelty of another...vaguely human presence besides Booster. Maybe it was just because he was new and different.

Still, it made the hairs on the back of his neck, weighted down by the hair dye though they were, stand on end every time he saw the boy heading for the closet. Junior didn't seem to understand the concept of "don't mess with the zombie."

He also seemed to have an unusual amount of information on the undead, and a strong desire to _test_ that information. When Booster questioned him on it, Junior said he'd seen something on TV.

It was apparent that Max didn't have super strength, since he hadn't been able to break out of the closet, so Junior speculated that he needed to eat. Booster couldn't understand _wanting_ the zombie to have super strength and said as much.

Junior just stared at him and scratched his ear, like he couldn't understand _not_ wanting the zombie to have super strength.

Clearly this was an issue where Ted's genes won out over Booster's.

So Junior had positioned a stool in front of the closet, opened the door, and threw spoiled meat at Zombie Max for about an hour. Booster finally made him stop when it became obvious that Max didn't have the ability to catch the meat _or_ pick it up where it had fallen. It just seemed kind of _sad_.

After that, Booster told Junior to stay away from the closet. Junior was disappointed, but obeyed him.

Though Booster couldn't help but be suspicious when he smelled a very strong odor of rotten meat and air freshener whenever he got close to the closet.

\---------------

Either TV had lost its appeal or Junior was feeling lonely, because he started hanging out in the basement more and more. Theoretically, it was so he could tinker with a strange robot he'd found hidden under a sheet. But he spent as much time loitering around Booster as he did the robot.

Booster wasn't sure how he felt about that and for the most part tried to ignore him.

\---------------

Skinning Max. _Where_ had Junior gotten the idea that that would be _okay_?

Booster pointed at him. "You." He said sternly, then pointed at the robot. "Go...tinker until you're less creepy."

Sighing, Junior did as he was told while Booster wondered whether it was his fault or if it was another thing he could blame on Ted's DNA. Turning his attention to the egg-shaped chunk of amber known as Cybele's Stone, Booster checked and rechecked the book, his notes, and the pronunciation guide he had found in _The Idiot's Guide To Spell-Casting_.

He _really_ hoped this one worked.

"Junior, stay out of the way," Booster instructed as he shoved a few boxes out of the way.

Junior glanced up, then turned back to the robot, giving the impression he was very pointedly _ignoring_ him.

"I'm not apologizing for calling you creepy," Booster muttered, moving back to the desk to pick up Cybele's Stone. Again he checked the book, his notes, and the pronunciation. "Just...stay there." He waved a hand in the boy's direction, then shook his head.

Taking a deep breath, Booster carefully spoke the "words of power" just as he had practiced. There was a brief moment of anticipation, then worry that he had somehow done something wrong, then a shimmer in the air followed immediately by a blinding flash of light radiating from Cybele's Stone.

Annoyed that the book hadn't warned of the fairly hard to miss _blinding flash of light_ , Booster blinked the spots from his watering eyes. As his vision slowly returned, the annoyance was quickly swept away in the face of the man standing where Booster had been pointing the Stone.

 _"You've been nothing but **trouble** since I met you...but you're the best **buddy** I ever **had**."_

Ted.

...With a mullet.

"Huh," Booster said, staring blankly.

Swaying a little on his feet, Ted groaned and Booster suddenly felt a flash of horror that he might have created another zombie like Max. Only this time it was _Ted_ and...he really wasn't sure what he would do then.

Ted slowly opened his eyes and glanced around the basement blearily, then focused on Booster. An expression Booster wasn't sure how to interpret flickered over Ted's face before he groggily asked, "Booster, what did you do?"

Booster beamed happily. "It's you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote taken from: _Justice League America_ #35.


End file.
